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A Married Coquette

Sit still, I say, and dispense with heroics!
I hurt your wrists? Well, you have hurt me.
It is time you found out that all men are not stoics,
Nor toys to be used as your mood may be.
I will not let go of your hands, nor leave you
Until I have spoken. No man, you say,
Dared ever so treat you before? I believe you,
For you have dealt only with boys till to-day.

You women lay stress on your fine perception,
Your intuitions are prated about;
You claim an occult sort of conception
Of matters which men must reason out.
So then, of course, when you asked me kindly
'To call again soon,' you read my heart.
I cannot believe you were acting blindly;
You saw my passion for you from the start.

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poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Ode to Liza Minnelli

I spray Paint Your Image on The
Graffiti Mural'd Walls
Between Dundas West & Keele
Subway Stations, As a
'Red Headed Beggar Girl'
Crawling Towards Me on Your Knees,
Against the Backdropp of The
Copper
Metal
Chasm?
With My Black Eye Liner I Draw You
As a Crude Stick Figure on The
Smudged Up Mirror, of a
Filthy Public Washroom,
I Finger Paint You as The
Forbidden Modern Primitive!
Wintering a Tropical Soundscape of My Heart,
I Scribble You In Gold & Silver & Violet Crayon
On a Pink Piece of Construction
Paper,

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poem by Stedmond M. Pardy
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Love In Separation 1 - 5

I
Today my heart is beating a sorrowful tune
and I don’t really know if it will end soon.
Since your departure all seems to be amiss
a pale reflection of that once heavenly bliss.
I have been left stranded on an alien shore
to fend for myself groping near your door.
The aftertaste of delight which our union once exuded
lingers on now in memory and feels like I was deluded.
Something doesn’t seem to be quite the same
even though I remember and repeat your name.
Your presence was what made the difference then
such a tangible feeling: will you not come again?
I can only endeavour to lure you back once more
so please don’t any of my genuine efforts ignore.

II
I look for you everywhere that I happen to go
but where you’re to be found I’d like to know.
Some say you’re in the heart and to look within

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poem by George Krokos
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The Task: Book II, The Time-Piece (excerpts)

...

England, with all thy faults, I love thee still--
My country! and, while yet a nook is left
Where English minds and manners may be found,
Shall be constrain'd to love thee. Though thy clime
Be fickle, and thy year most part deform'd
With dripping rains, or wither'd by a frost,
I would not yet exchange thy sullen skies,
And fields without a flow'r, for warmer France
With all her vines; nor for Ausonia's groves
Of golden fruitage, and her myrtle bow'rs.
To shake thy senate, and from heights sublime
Of patriot eloquence to flash down fire
Upon thy foes, was never meant my task:
But I can feel thy fortunes, and partake
Thy joys and sorrows, with as true a heart
As any thund'rer there. And I can feel
Thy follies, too; and with a just disdain

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poem by William Cowper
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Happy Happy birthday Sasha

Happy Happy birthday Sasha'

To the 'LOVELIEST SUPER MODEL IN THE WORLD'
with the most~
'DEFINED FLAWLESS FRAME'
let me say ~
happy happy birthday to you ~
i lift up my glass with a~
'LYRICAL Toast'
Just as 'SWEETLY WHOLESOME'
and 'NICELY GIVEN'
as to say to you ~
i hope you have a ~
happy happy birthday~
that only a 'FASCINATING MODEL'
like you can do ~
happy happy birthday ~
to a 'PERFECT BEAUTY'
as 'ONE OF A KIND, Attractive'
and 'EXQUISITELY LOVEY'

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poem by Verlecia fields
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The Farmer Of Tilsbury Vale

'TIS not for the unfeeling, the falsely refined,
The squeamish in taste, and the narrow of mind,
And the small critic wielding his delicate pen,
That I sing of old Adam, the pride of old men.

He dwells in the centre of London's wide Town;
His staff is a sceptre--his grey hairs a crown;
And his bright eyes look brighter, set off by the streak
Of the unfaded rose that still blooms on his cheek.

'Mid the dews, in the sunshine of morn,--'mid the joy
Of the fields, he collected that bloom, when a boy,
That countenance there fashioned, which, spite of a stain
That his life hath received, to the last will remain.

A Farmer he was; and his house far and near
Was the boast of the country for excellent cheer:
How oft have I heard in sweet Tilsbury Vale
Of the silver-rimmed horn whence he dealt his mild ale!

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poem by William Wordsworth
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The Winner

The hulk of a man with a beer in his hand looked like a drunk old fool,
And I knew that if I hit him right, I could knock him off that stool.
But everybody said, 'Watch out, that's Tiger Man McCool.
He's had a whole lot of fights, and he always come out the winner.
Yeah, he's a winner.'

But I'd had myself about five too many, and I walked up tall and proud,
I faced his back and I faced the fact that he'd never stooped or bowed.
I said, 'Tiger Man, you're a pussycat,' and a hush fell on the crowd,
I said, 'Let's you and me go outside and see who's the winner'

Well, he gripped the bar with one big hairy hand and he braced against the wall,
He slowly looked up from his beer....my God, that man was tall.
He said, 'Boy, I see you're a scrapper, so just before you fall,
I'm gonna tell you just a little what a means to be a winner.'

He said, 'You see these bright white smilin' teeth, you know they ain't my own.
Mine rolled away like Chiclets down a street in San Antone.
But I left that person cursin', nursin' seven broken bones.
And he only broke three of mine, and that make me a winner.'

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poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Infatuation's All Hands On Stations Gig Antic_ipations

What's love? above all hand in glove,
with statement missionary,
twinned turtle dove, no pressure, shove,
precisions scission scary.

Infatuate calls bluff, seals fate,
romantic airy-fairy
from single state anticipate?
semantic se[a]men hairy?

Is limerence mind's self-defence
'gainst harsh realities,
as urge intense to merge makes sense,
what's real? weal’s wheel? reel tease!

With no offence from off the fence
analysis essential
of present tense, or past, immense
gap trap zaps existential.

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poem by Jonathan Robin (29 August 2009)
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Einstein and Society

Much of what Einstein had to say
remains unexplained
100 years later,
in terms of impact his ideas have on society.

First, we need to comprehend
he sought
to explain everything.

We know the familiar E=mc2;
what does it really mean?

Astounding at the time
but now common place;
the idea states that energy and matter interrelate;
and matter can be changed to energy and vice versa.

What's not understood well
by many is
that matter

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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Upwardly Mobile Breasts Current Version

Upwardly mobile breasts
link together East and West,
occupying cyberspace
to tease, to please, as they unbrace,
spring feeding fantasy oppressed,
that gravity which, second-guessed,
would temper passions. These, apace,
grow, flow with honey, milk, chased chaste.

Upwardly mobile breasts
time time. Against time each protests,
the morals of the marketplace,
reject as callous, coarse, misplaced
manipulative maladress.
By tenderness they're more impressed.
Pneumatic cushions chaste encase
chased goals which souls should not debase.

Man, mammal mammary obsessed,
manhandles, memory manifests

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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